by Tim Sampson thursday, july 30 You know, I’m convinced I harmed animals for no reason in a past life. (And God knows I don’t do it now; I had to explain to my roommate the other day that the reason my cat wasn’t eating when he fed her in the morning was because he was feeding her fish-flavored Fancy Feast, and that she would only eat that at night. And who can blame her? Would you like to wake up and eat flaked trout the first thing in the morning?) Anyway, I must be cursed. Last week I wrote about having some heart tests done, which required wearing a “halter” monitor for 24 hours. Well, every test came back perfectly normal. No problems with the ticker. Shocking, I know. But still I have these attacks during which it races like Paula Jones running from somebody with an ugly stick and it’s very hard to breathe. So now we think they are panic attacks and I’m trying out some panic-disorder medication. And you just ought to read the booklet that comes with it. It’s enough to make you panic right off the bat. It lists all of the possible symptoms, one of which is the “feeling of losing control and going crazy,” which definitely hits the nail on the head in my case. Others are the fear of having more attacks. Well, duh. No, I look forward to just sitting around doing nothing and all of a sudden have a pulse of 250. Can’t wait for it to happen again. Another is “feelings of unreality or of being detached from oneself.” Well, since I’ve been experiencing that since I was about, oh, 3, I guess I must have whatever this disorder is. So I started taking the medicine – the side effects of which, by the way, include dizziness (already have it, but not a medical condition), drowsiness (usually have it later in the day after walking out of bars at daylight), diarrhea (read: weight loss), constipation, gas, loss of appetite, nausea, fatigue, headaches, dry mouth (already have it – sometimes, if you know what I mean), increased sweating, tremors, decreased libido (lovely), ringing in the ears, flushing (I can see it now: standing in the bathroom repeatedly flushing the toilet), and twitching (already have it). And this medication is supposed to keep you calm? I might as well go ahead and have a frontal lobotomy. Or a bottle in front of me. (Okay, so everyone heard that one in high school. I just couldn’t help it.) I am very glad, however, that hallucinating is not one of the side effects, because the very first day I took the medication, I awoke in the middle of the night. As always, on the couch with the television blaring. I opened my eyes and – I swear on Joan Crawford’s grave that I am not making this up – there she was, on the VH-1 Insomniac Videos. Yes, Celine Dion. She was wearing a one-piece, skin-tight, backless white body suit and was just chortling her little heart out, accompanied by an Asian woman playing the fiddle, who looked like she had just snorted a line of crystal meth the size of a drinking straw. And at one point, Celine turned around, and it looked like she had an antenna of some sort coming out of her buttocks. And toward the end of the number, which simply defied nature, Celine did it. The chest thump. Twice. How that woman has a sternum left is a miracle. At any rate, the medicine must be working, because I sat up, watched it very calmly, did not go into a panic attack, and was actually able to go back to sleep. I am on the road to recovery, despite being cursed. Now if I could only handle going to the grocery store without walking around for an hour before putting anything in the basket besides cigarettes and cat food, I might learn how to function normally. In the meantime, I’m sure you’re sick of my incessant babbling, so let’s get around to what’s going on around town this week. Tonight, Five from the Forum – five award-winning 10-minute plays – opens at TheatreWorks. Easy Rider is showing at The Orpheum. If you go to Cielo for dinner and/or drinks, you can hear Michael Donahue tinkling the ivories on the mezzanine. And down at the Horseshoe Casino, it’s the big British Rock Symphony – a two-hour show with dozens of songs, a laser light show, a 60-piece orchestra, a core rock band, 20-voice choir, and Roger Daltrey. friday, july 31 Oh, God. I’m panicking. Just teasing. Tonight, back down at the Horseshoe, the Rascals are playing, while Restless Heart is over at Sam’s Town. Back in this town, the Kings of Comedy show comes to the Mid-South Coliseum, featuring Steve Harvey, Bernie Mac, and Cedric the Entertainer. Hitchcock’s To Catch a Thief is showing at The Orpheum. Nationally acclaimed acoustic guitarist Richard Gilewitz is playing at Otherlands. A.K.A. Rudi and the Billygoats are playing at Young Avenue Deli. And, well, I’m sure there’s plenty more going on but I’m getting tired of this. saturday, august 1 Things look a little more lively today. There are three art openings: one at The University of Memphis Art Museum for “Noah’s Art”; “Study of the Human Form” opens at Gallery 509 on S. Main; and “What are you looking at?” – an installation examining the local punk-rock scene, opens at 1297 Madison Avenue. If you want to help out a very worthy cause, check out the Big Brothers/Big Sisters Sports Ball ’98 at The Peabody, with a banquet, silent auction, interactive sports games, and live music by Memphis Soul Stew. At the Chucalissa Archaeological Museum, today kicks off the two-day Choctaw Heritage Festival, with Native American dancing, music, food, games, and more. The Connells with opening acts Possum Dixon and Far Too Jones are playing at the New Daisy. Brenda Patterson and the Campfire Boys are at Kudzu’s. And Jay Reatard, Jack Ballers, Ultracats, and Vegas Thunders are at The Map Room. sunday, august 2 Back at the New Daisy tonight, it’s Jimmie’s Chicken Shack with opening act Another Society. And if you want to hear some really good jazzy R&B, Blue Silk is playing at Memphis Zoo Nights. monday, august 3 Matrimonial Variety at Circuit Playhouse, a take-off on The Golden Girls by The Golden Curls. tuesday, august 4 Yes in concert with opening act the Alan Parsons Project at Mud-Island Amphitheatre. wednesday, august 5 Michelangelo Antonioni’s Blow-Up is showing at the Memphis Brooks Museum of Art. And that, as they say, is that. As usual, I don’t care what you do this week, because I don’t even know you, and unless you can get Thelma Houston to come to one of those casinos, I’m sure I don’t ever want to meet you. Besides, it’s time for me to blow this mole trap and go see if I can find some nude photos of Kenneth Starr on the Internet. If that doesn’t send me into a panic, I think I’ll be okay.